Family Matters
by WedJes.Writes
Summary: 1923, Duchess and Thomas O'Malley have been married for eleven years, it's been thirteen years since 'the incident' and the triplets are now nineteen years of age, finding their way in the world and learning what it means to be adults. Duchess and Tom have important news to share with them however, if only they could find the right moment.
1. Chapter 1

"Tom?" Duchess asked softly, "Can you please say something?"

The man in question looked up to her, his expression one of disbelief, "Sorry?",

She sighed, "I said, can you please say something? You're making me nervous"

The redhead coughed and sat up, adjusting his waistcoat, "Yeah, I'm sorry, it's just a shock" he replied.

"Do you think I'm not shocked?" Duchess frowned, holding her own arms across her body tightly,

"Of course!" Tom answered quickly, standing and joining her on the lounge seat. He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer, "It's shocking news, _very_ shocking news",

"But you are happy about it, aren't you?" the blonde added, panic slipping through her usual sophisticated resolve,

"Yes!" Tom yelped, "Of course! I mean- it's happy news! _Shocking_ , but _happy_ news",

She sighed in relief, and turned her body towards him, hugging him tightly, "I'm so glad you think so"

"Of course" he nodded, holding her in return.

Tom's eyes were still bulging from their sockets however, their focus over Duchess' shoulder and on the letter from the doctor that lay on the table before them. A letter which confirmed that at the age of forty-seven, she was two, nearly three months pregnant in fact.

It was 1923, and despite having been married for eleven years, Duchess and Thomas O'Malley had at no point even considered having children. The triplets were enough, even now that they were grown and spent very little time at home between them.

They were as good as Tom's own anyway.

No, instead they spent their life together travelling and performing the normal social niceties expected of a high-class family in Paris.

Duchess was a well-liked socialite, both beautiful and talented. And Tom, despite being an American, had come to be appreciated too.

Being a Yank was bad enough, but being Duchess' second husband had made it all the more difficult, especially being five years her junior. Many of her colleagues had been very reserved about the idea of her marrying again, and many of them who had known her first husband had been set on comparing Tom to him in every aspect.

The redhead had easily won them over one by one however.

He was charming, handsome and trying his very best to culture himself. Even his wit had its place amongst their conversation.

Duchess was extremely proud.

It was impossible to tell how the news of her pregnancy would be taken however, and not just by their fellow society members.

"We need to tell the children" Duchess said, quickly pulling away from her husband, worry once again coming to her expression,

"Already?" Tom replied, blushing,

"Well we can't keep it from them" she answered, raising her eyebrows at him.

"No, I suppose not" he said biting his lip, "So when are you going to tell them?"

Duchess blinked, as though she had not heard him, "We need to all sit down together and talk it through"

-So, she had heard him, she was just choosing to ignore his choice of words.

"Well it'll be difficult to get them together right now" the redhead said with a frown,

It was true, these days the triplets each had very busy schedules, even if it wasn't always entirely clear what it was that they were all doing.

"Well I can send someone to find Marie at the salon, and Toulouse will be at the studio" Duchess then winced, "Finding Berlioz is the real problem",

Tom mimicked her expression,

Berlioz was always the most difficult to track down these days, and he was also the one of the three of them who spent the least amount of time at home -apart from when he slept in until midday of course. That was to say, more often than not, he arrived home in the early hours of the morning, slept until 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and was then gone again by 6.

"I'll go and find him" Tom said with a nod, standing from the lounge chair,

"Are you sure?" his wife asked, watching as he collected his suit jacket and pulled it on.

He shrugged, adjusting his cuffs, "I've got a good idea of where he'll be"

"Well don't be long" Duchess said standing too, folding her hands in front of herself,

Tom looked to the blonde and her concerned expression, "I won't be" he said with a gentle smile.

He then took a step back towards her, and placing his hand on her arm, planted a gentle kiss against her mouth,

The man felt her lips form a soft smile against his own, and after one more reassuring squeeze of her forearm, he finally turned away and headed from the room.

0o0o0

Tom truly did have a good idea of where he would be able to find Berlioz, mostly because he knew something that Duchess didn't,

He didn't like lying to his wife, but he honestly believed that on this occasion, it was for her own good.

For a long time, Berlioz was considered the most talented of Duchess' children,

Not by her of course, she considered each of her children to be equals. It was society on the other hand that did not.

Berlioz was handsome, charming and a talented musician. He had so much promise, in composing, playing, and as a potential husband to some lucky girl of course.

The moment he had dropped out of music college however, that had all changed,

Every offer had dried up.

He was still handsome of course, even if he wasn't always the best put together. And he was still charming too, even if he was so aloof that most people didn't get to experience it.

It was the music that had changed, Berlioz had said that he simply wanted more freedom, and Tom had a good idea as to why,

It was down to Louis Crothers, or 'Uncle Scat Cat' as the children better knew him.

Berlioz had started to spend a lot of time with Louis from the age of 13, playing piano for him and his friends. Now at 19, it seemed like that was nightly event. In fact, it was apparently all that he did.

Tom hadn't told Duchess for a number of reasons, partly because Louis' clientele were famous for being, well, infamous. But mostly because over the years, Duchess had developed a slight distaste for Louis.

She had liked him well enough on their first meeting, all those years ago, back in 1910, during ' _the incident'_.

But since, one very particular thing had coloured her impression,

He'd gotten exceedingly drunk at their wedding, and as Tom's best man, had weaved a very long, mostly false yarn about 'the incident'.

A yarn that, with a lack for a better word, had made Duchess sound 'loose' as she put it, in regards to the way she had 'thrown herself' at Tom,

Since, although the damage had been repaired both by time, and clarification of exactly what had happened, the woman was still weary of Louis.

Tom was certain she'd be horrified if she knew about Berlioz's coming and goings with him, and now with the new news of her pregnancy, he was sure that it was not the time to tell her.

Although, he still had his doubts, especially as he wandered through the club's front door,

Tom winced as he made his way down the short corridor, his hands going deep into his trouser pockets as he shrugged his shoulders up close to his ears. He'd forgotten just how dark it was in there, even in the mid-afternoon,

The thick doors and heavy curtains that lined the place left it feeling very closed in, and they acted in muffling the music that played daily too,

The melodic, if not slightly disjointed piano music greeted him beyond the final door, as if acting as a testament to that fact.

It wasn't exactly recognisable as any one song, 'jaunty' was probably the best way to describe the tune if anything,

Tom wasn't surprised by the uncertainty of the music however, especially when he saw that the pianist was so distracted.

Berlioz was sharing his piano stool with a very pretty blonde, while an equally attractive brunette sat on top of the instrument,

He was looking between the two of them with a huge smile on his face, and a lit cigarette held between two of his fingers that were stumbling absently over the keys.

A couple of intoxicated teens sat at a table a few feet away, singing poorly to the music, and making Berlioz and his female company laugh even more.

The young man continued to play the melody with one hand as the other placed the cigarette between his lips and he took a long drag of the tobacco, with something else undoubtedly mixed into the blend as well,

Tom sighed, placing his hands on his hips, and licking his lips to talk, "Berlioz?",

The ravenette in question faltered on the next key and he tensed his shoulders, his head receding into his neck.

"Here" he whispered, passing the cigarette to the blonde girl, before turning on the bench quickly and standing to greet Tom with an overly enthusiastic smile, "Tom" he said brightly, stifling a single cough, "Everything okay?" he asked, approaching his stepfather.

"This should be tied" he replied, pointing at Berlioz's tie when he got close enough,

The strip of red silk was draped around his collar, far from serving its purpose,

"Oh-" the young man said looking to it, "-sorry", he set about tying it into a half Windsor, luckily without much trouble, "You won't-" he paused, looking up to Tom and appealing to him with a nervous expression, "You won't tell mother about the cigarette, will you?",

"I'll do you one better, I won't tell her about the girls either" he replied, folding his arms.

Berlioz winced as he fixed the knot of his tie a little too tightly, and definitely too far down from his collar, "Thank you" he nodded. He then pulled one hand through his unwashed hair, scooping it way from his eyes, and vaguely leaving it in the shape of a smart coif, "Is everything _okay_?" he then repeated, "You don't usually- you never come to see me here",

"Oui oui, been a while since we've seen you in 'Chateau de Scat', O'Malley"

Berlioz laughed nervously, while Tom stifled a groan.

Louis Crothers, the 'Scat Cat' himself had emerged from the curtains, a broad grin on his face as he approached them,

He was a stout older aged man these days, rather than a stout middle-aged man. His back hair was filled with greys, but it was mostly covered by his signature bowler hat anyway.

"Louis" Tom sighed, begrudgingly smiling and accepting the incoming hug,

"Thomas! How are you?" Louis replied, squeezing the taller man in a tight gripped embrace,

The redhead winced as an ache was set into his ribs, but smiled reassuringly as he pulled away, easily slipping his hands back into his pockets, "I'm well thank you Louis, and yourself?"

"Only 'well'?" he chuckled, sitting himself at a table with a bit of a wheeze, "I'm more than well, _you_ sound like you need a drink" he added.

The 'Scat Cat' then lifted his hand to a man stood at the partially concealed bar by the far wall, and the man began to stack glasses on a tray to bring over to them,

"Oh no, no, I can't stay Louis, I just came to collect Berlioz" Tom said, shaking his head.

"Our boy Berlioz, of course!" he replied, he then gestured to the table he was sat at, "Both of you, join me"

They did as the man said, albeit rather begrudgingly by Tom, and then watched as the barman deposited three cylindrical glasses and a partial bottle of the red wine between them.

"Here we are" Louis said, pulling the cork out of the bottleneck, "Wine Berlioz?"

The young man went to answer, but was quickly cut off by his stepfather,

"No thank you Louis, we really can't stay, like I said"

"Just a quick one Tom", the man said with a shrug, pouring a very healthy serving of wine, and passing the glass to Berlioz who smiled his thanks,

"I want to make a toast" old Scat added, pouring a second glass.

Tom rolled his eyes but accepted it, finding from the scent that the wine was at least of a much higher quality than he had been expecting.

"A toast-" Louis said, raising his own glass, which had by far the greatest amount of wine in,"-A toast to the talented Berlioz, our boy Berlioz and his musical prowess"

Tom didn't appreciate the term 'our boy Berlioz', not from Louis at least. It likely came from a place of jealousy, but he didn't like to think about that.

Berlioz blushed at the toast but said nothing once more, his expression disappearing behind his glass a moment later as he drank a large gulp of wine.

His stepfather made short work of his own drink, mostly because he didn't want to hang around for long. Once he was done, he placed the glass on the table, slapped his legs and then stood up, regarding Berlioz and Louis with a look,

"Right, we really need to go" he said, placing his hands on his hips,

"Already? It's only been a minute Tom"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry Louis, I _said_ we couldn't hang around for long. Come on Berlioz"

The ravenette looked a little disappointed, but nodded and stood, "See you later Uncle Louis" he said, joining his stepfather,

"Yeah, yeah, see you soon kid" Louis replied, looking equally disheartened.

Tom and Berlioz nodded to one another, and started towards the exit, only making it a few steps before the 'Scat Cat' demanded their attention again,

"Don't forget you hat Berlioz"

They turned towards him just as the brunette atop the piano tossed the hat in question to Louis. In turn, he threw it to Berlioz who caught it,

"Oh, thank you" he nodded, placing it on his head,

It was a clean black bowler hat, the 'bowl' and rim of which were separated by a red satin ribbon.

Tom stared at the hat, before quirking a curious and confused eyebrow at his stepson,

The young man blushed in response, before answering his unspoken question quietly: "It's just something I'm trying out"

0o0o0

"Berlioz!" Marie said with a huge beam as he entered the foyer of the house, Tom closing the door behind them,

"Hello Marie" he responded with a smile, accepting the hug she was offering him,

"I thought it was odd getting called home myself, but if you're home too it must mean trouble" the blonde laughed as they pulled away,

"What?" her brother asked, quirking his brow.

She rolled her eyes at him, "You know what I mean" she hitched the spaghetti string of her bag up higher onto her shoulder, "It must be a serious family meeting if we're all home at the same time",

"All of us?" Berlioz asked, looking over to Tom who was watching them from the doorway,

The redhead shrugged in response, choosing to not give anything away, "Afternoon Marie" he added.

The young woman's smile grew and she approached her stepfather, embracing him in a hug too and kissing him on the cheek, "Good afternoon" she nodded, pulling away, "So, are we in trouble?" she asked with a laugh,

Tom rolled his eyes at her and shook his head, "Come on" he said, leading the way through to the lounge.

Duchess was waiting for them as they entered, still sat on the couch, but she stood as soon as her children came into view, and she quickly went to accept hugs from them both.

"Is everything okay?" Marie asked, as she and Duchess went back to the longue chair together, their hands joined even as they sat, as her mother seemed resistant to let go.

"Oh, yes. Yes, everything's fine" she replied, nodding,

She then looked to Tom who was stood on the opposite side of the room.

He was meandering around by the fireplace, his arms folded and a serious expression on his face,

Berlioz meanwhile, was helping himself to a glass of port from the drinks table, "I thought Toulouse was going to be here too?" he asked, placing the crystal stopper back into the decanter and raising his drink to his lips,

Tom looked across to his wife, his expression asking a similar question.

"He wasn't at the studio" Duchess replied,

"Toulouse? Not at the studio?" Marie asked, almost laughing, "Where else would he be?"

"No one's sure" she answered, "But I'm certain he'll be along soon" she then let out an awkward cough, "In the meantime-"

Tom's eyes widened, was she really planning on telling them the news already?

The woman was cut off before she could begin however, as the longue door swung open again, this time revealing Toulouse,

He looked only marginally more tidy than usual, his outfit sporting half as much paint splatter is it normally would. But the most drastic thing about his appearance, was the massive grin he was wearing,

"Guess who just got their first, _full_ , gallery show?" he asked, looking between the members of his family,

Tom and Duchess shared a look of disbelief, before quickly replacing their worry with expressions of jubilation- their news could wait for now.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you think of this?" Marie asked, lifting a tweed material from the tailor's cart,

Toulouse grimaced at the sample, _what did he think?_ Well, it was green he supposed, or _mostly_ green. It was a sort of olive green, interwoven with bold lines of orange thread; if he was being honest, it just looked _brown_ , and not a nice shade of brown either,

"No" he replied, shaking his head.

The blonde frowned and turned back to the collection of fabrics, "You're making this awfully difficult you know"

"You're the one who wanted to take me out shopping" he replied, perching against the table behind him- the tailor working at it gave the young man a sour expression as the surface shifted under his weight, but he said nothing,

"I just want my brother to look nice for his art opening" Marie answered, "Is that too much to ask?"

"I'll just wear my suit" he said with a sigh.

His sister pivoted on the spot and gave him an unconvinced look, "Your suit doesn't fit you"

The redhead grumbled, but said nothing, knowing that she was in fact correct,

"I know you don't like shopping, but just indulge me, would you?"

Toulouse's sigh became a kind of groaning sound as it rumbled up from the base of his throat, "But I don't like any of this stuff, why do I need a waistcoat anyway?"

"Several reasons" the blonde replied, "Number one, it will make you look sophisticated, number two, your suit -the one that doesn't fit you- doesn't have a matching waistcoat, and number three, if you won't let me buy you a new shirt, we'll have to find some way of covering all of the paint stains on the clothes you already own"

Her brother was still mostly unconvinced, he didn't see the problem with the clothes he already had, and as such, he didn't see the problem of wearing them to his art opening either.

"Fine, how about a compromise?" he suggested, standing and approaching her,

Marie turned to him again, an eyebrow arched, "Go on",

"I let you buy me a new shirt, and instead of buying a new suit, we'll come back and get the trousers from my old suit tailored. No waistcoat. How's that?",

She thought for a moment, "Fine, but you can't just wear a pair of trousers and a shirt"

Toulouse sighed once again, "What do you suggest?"

"A tie" she answered, smiling.

"No!" he said quickly, "I hate ties!"

"Oh come on! I'll find one that suits you, I promise!" Marie begged going over to her brother and taking his arm, squeezing it tightly,

He looked down at her bright blue eyes, and eager, sweet smile- his sister was one of the only people who could convince him to do anything that he didn't want to do.

"Okay, okay!" he nodded, shaking her off, "But only if I really, really like it",

"You will" she replied with a beam, "Promise!" she added brightly, pitching up and placing a kiss on his cheek.

An hour later Toulouse and Marie were back at the tailor's shop after a brief trip to collect his old suit.

The redhead was stood in front of three tall mirrors, wincing as the man from earlier crouched in front of him, measuring his inseam. Meanwhile, his sister had wondered off somewhere behind him, hot on her task to pick out a tie.

"So how did it happen?" she asked, briefly coming into view in the reflection in front him before then disappearing again,

"How did what happen?" Toulouse replied, looking down at the tailor briefly, as he tried to remain as still as possible,

"How did you get the gallery show?" the blonde said, "You've been trying for years"

Although it had not been all that long since Toulouse had gotten his own studio space for painting, there had also been absolutely no interest in his work during that time. Unlike his brother, he had chosen not to go to school for his particular 'talent', which was probably for the best.

It was common knowledge that Toulouse's work was an acquired taste,

He described it as expressionism, cubism, impressionism, symbolism, surrealism, even art nouveau on occasion, but no one really had any idea what he was talking about.

"It's only been two years" Toulouse grumbled, coughing to clear his throat, "A man came to the studio, someone who I met at a gallery opening a few months ago, he liked my work and offered me a space for an exhibition" he shrugged, earning another glare from the tailor as he shifted on his aching feet, "That's all" he added quietly.

"Well I think it's about damn time" Marie said warmly, stepping up behind him and smiling at him through the reflection, "Your work is brilliant"

Marie was also Toulouse's most verbal supporter.

He smiled at his sister, "Thank you" he nodded,

" _Bien entendu_ " she said with a shrug, she then looked down to the man who was placing the final pin her brother's trousers, "These look much better" she nodded,

"Yeah, I suppose they do" he nodded, albeit begrudgingly, "Chosen une putain tie for me then?"

The tailor made a sound of disgust at his use of profanity, and Toulouse realised that swearing in English would probably have been a better idea,

Marie rolled her eyes at him, "Yes, yes I have chosen you a tie, and I _swear_ , you'll like it"

0o0o0

The next day Marie collected Toulouse's newly tailored trousers on the way to his studio loft.

Tonight was the night of the gallery opening, and he'd decided to prepare for it away from home to save their mother from making too much of a fuss over him- Marie would be bad enough anyway.

She let herself into the studio as she normally would, straining with the three garment bags she had slung over her other arm. Luckily, Toulouse had heard her coming and intercepted her in the doorway, quickly taking the bags from her arm, before realising just how much she had brought with her,

"What's all of this? You were meant to be picking up my trousers!"

" _These_ are your trousers" Marie insisted, tapping the top bag, "And that's my dress for tonight",

"And this?" he added, indicating the final, much older looking garment bag,

"That's mine too" she shrugged, hoping that her brother wouldn't notice the gentle blush that was blooming under her makeup.

"Okay" the redhead nodded, none the wiser "Come on, we better start getting ready" he added, going to hand her clothes back,

"Oh, wait!" she insisted, reaching into her handbag, "Take this too" she said, placing a small, folded paper bag on top of what he already held,

"What's this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow,

"Your tie" she laughed, hauling her garment bags back into her arms, "Now go, get changed. I'll use the bedroom" she said, heading for the side of the studio that contained the cot, therefore making it a 'bedroom' (in the very loosest interpretation of the word).

The loft was essentially one large room, but with the help of some hung fabrics, and massive canvas', Toulouse had split the place into two smaller spaces. One for painting which was the bigger of the two: it was filled by two work tables, half a dozen easels and stacks of finished paintings. While the other part of the loft was tucked out of the way by a small window, it had a small uncomfortable cot, a tall mirror, and little else.

Marie stepped into the bedroom space and laid her garment bags over the cot, before going over to the window and drawing the curtain across it. She went back to the bags, and unzipped the top one, revealing her ankle length, silver and pink beaded dress- she smiled fondly at it.

It didn't take long for the woman to get changed, having gotten used to dressing in a hurry. Once she was happy with her appearance, she then regarded the second garment bag.

Marie would admit that she had lied to Toulouse. At first, she absolutely had not intended to, when she agreed to dropping the idea of a waistcoat, she really had meant it, but on returning home that night and opening her wardrobe, an idea had struck her. It seemed like a wonderful idea, truly. But then, arriving at the loft, she had actively lied to him, that was also true, and yet it also _wasn't_. The second garment bag was for her, it was so _she_ could dress Toulouse.

She picked up the bag and draped it over her arm, heading back into the open space of the studio,

Toulouse was stood in front of another, much more warped and dirtier mirror, tucking the bottom of his brand new, pristine white shirt, into the waistband of his perfectly fitting trousers.

"That's so much better" the blonde said with a sigh,

He turned to regard her, "Not what I expected" he said, pointing to his collar,

A pale blue, untied bowtie lay draped about it,

Marie laughed and approached him, hanging the old garment bag up on an easel as she went, "Do you like it?" she asked, reaching out to tie it for him,

"Yes actually"

"Well don't sound so surprised!" she teased, tightening it so it sat below his Adam's apple.

Toulouse smiled softly, "Thank you" he said, nodding,

Marie shook her head in response however and winced, "Don't thank me, at least not yet"

"Why not?" her brother replied, blinking at her,

"Because I'm about to do something I said I wouldn't" the blonde answered, biting her lip. She couldn't help the smile that began to spread across her face as she half skipped, half ran over to the garment bag, unzipping it in one smooth movement and pulling out the piece of clothing from within, brandishing it across her body to display it for him.

"A waistcoat?" Toulouse asked with a sigh, "But we agreed!"  
"I know, I know!" she whined, "But just try it on, please?"

The redhead stared at her for a long moment, and the sad but hopeful expression she was wearing, "Oh, fine, but it does not mean I'll wear it!"

"That's fine, just see what you think" she replied, shaking her head and handing it to him,

Her brother took the garment, feeling its soft texture in his hand- the back panel was silk as most waistcoats were, but he couldn't place the fabric that the front was composed of, "What is this?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs into it, watching as the colour changed slightly with the movement of the small, soft bristles.

"Suede" Marie answered, perching on the edge of one of his tables after she had checked it was clean,

"Suede? I didn't even know they made waistcoats out of suede" he said, threading it onto his arms and up to his shoulders, "It is nice though" he added quietly,

Marie beamed, "You like it?" she asked, watching as he fastened each of the buttons and turned to regard himself in the mirror.

Toulouse smiled begrudgingly and nodded, "Yeah- yes. It's unique, I think" he said, pulling it down to make sure it covered the waistband of his trousers,

The piece was a sort of burnt sienna colour, not quite the orange red of his hair, but just as warm.

His sister stood abruptly and rushed over to him, "I was hoping you'd like it" she said, going to wipe down the front of the waistcoat. She then took in a deep breath to steady herself and smiled at him, "You look like father"

The redhead shrugged and looked past her to the mirror again, adjusting his bowtie a little, "I guess I do look quite a bit like Tom",

The coincidence that he bore resemblance to their stepfather had escaped nobody's notice over the years, it had caused a few passing comments and jokes, but otherwise had been chalked up to a very obscure coincidence.

"No, I mean you look like _father_ " she repeated, tears inexplicably forming in the corners of her eyes,

Toulouse's jaw dropped a little and he gave her and then himself a dumbfounded look, "I- I guess I do a little"

Marie dropped her eyes and smiled at his outfit instead, "This is his" she added, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow,

"Hmm? Oh-" the blonde looked him in the eye once more, "-the waistcoat. The waistcoat was fathers. After we couldn't find anything at _les boutiques_ , I thought this might do nicely. I found it in one of the trunks in the attic a few weeks ago"

Toulouse frowned and shook his head, "Marie-"

She quickly interrupted him however, "-I found some old photos of him wearing it too, do you want to see?", she asked, turning away and reaching into her bag which she had stuffed a few of the images into.

"I can't wear this Marie" he said, putting his hands to the last button, preparing to unfasten it,

"What?" she asked, looking back to him, bringing the photos up to her chest, "Why not? You said you liked it",

"Because-" he sighed trying to find the words, "-Because it's not mine, it's father's waistcoat, and he-"

"-And he would want you to wear it" Marie said, cutting him off again.

"He was a military man Marie, and I'm an artist, they're hardly compatible" Toulouse replied, frowning as he spoke,

She looked devastated by his words, "He was also a husband, and a father, and he would be so proud of you" the blonde said, now sounding desperate, "You need to wear the waistcoat Toulouse, it's perfect",

The redhead slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and looked down, away from her pleading expression, "I don't know",

"Please" Marie said softly, then letting out a small, unamused laugh, "I- I like to think that if he was still here, that that's what he would be wearing to your gallery opening. So if _you_ wear it, it's a little like having him there" her eyes were focused on the ground now. She was trying her very best not to cry, especially in front of Toulouse.

"Okay" he said with a nod, "I'll wear it"

The blonde released a shaky breath which became a delighted laugh, "Thank you, thank you" she nodded, throwing her arms about her brother and nestling her head into his chest,

He stumbled back a little, but embraced her in return, "I'll wear it" he repeated, "But if it gets stained, I accept absolutely no fault",

"No" Marie giggled, pulling away from him, "Of course not" she nodded, putting one hand to her cheek, and collecting the dampness from around her eyes before it could fall, "So- will Berlioz be there tonight?"

0o0o0

Berlioz stared thoughtfully at the painting before him.

At least to the untrained eye, his gaze may have seemed thoughtful, but Thomas knew the reality; it was seven o'clock in the evening, and the young man was very, very hungover.

"This is very impressive" Duchess said from his side, raising her champagne flute full of water to her mouth and taking a sip,

"Hmm?" Tom replied, "Oh, yeah" he agreed, nodding obediently,

"I had no idea Toulouse had so many pieces in the studio, there must be about three or four dozen here, and the size of some of them" she went on, shaking her head, "I couldn't have imagined"

"There are a lot" the redhead replied coughing awkwardly, his tone then dropped and he stooped a little to make sure that only his wife heard his next words, "Although, I think it would be fair to say that I understand next to none of them, how about you?",

Duchess smiled brightly, "Oh, absolutely not" she laughed.

Thomas laughed too, but quickly lifted his drink to hide his amused expression as Toulouse entered the room, a broad smile on his face,

"I am very proud though" she added, watching as her son went over to his brother, who looked entirely exhausted by his bright demeanour, but was at least trying to share the sentiment,

"I know you are" he nodded, "I am too you know"

"Yes" she nodded, looking up to him with a sentimental sort of smile, "I know you are",

Tom could only return the look for a moment before it waned however, "We should tell them soon" he stated softly, once again making sure that they wouldn't be overheard, "It might start to show"

"Not tonight" she said quickly, panicking, "We can't do it tonight",

"No, of course not" Thomas replied, "It's Toulouse's night" he agreed, "But, we don't want them to think we're keeping it from them",

"Soon" Duchess replied, promise in her words, "I'll figure out the right time, and the right place" she assured him,

"That's all that matter's" the redhead nodded, taking up one of her hands, and bringing it to his mouth, "I want you to be happy" he said, his lips moving against her knuckles as he spoke,

His wife blushed softly and nodded, "Well I am, I'm very happy" she nodded.

"Mother, Thomas!" Marie then chirped, all but bounding over to the two of them,

"Marie" Duchess responded, smiling at her daughter, "You look beautiful darling" she added, as they exchanged kisses to one another's cheeks,

"So do you" she beamed, "Evening Tom" she added, offering him a hand,

"Good evening Marie" he nodded, pecking one of her knuckles with a kiss,

She then shuffled in between them, taking her mother's arm in her own, "What do you think of Toulouse tonight?" she asked eagerly,

"I'm very proud of him" Duchess answered, "As I am of all of you",

"Of course" the young woman nodded, hardly stifling the roll of her eyes, "But I meant his outfit",

The elder looked her son over once more, one eyebrow raised, "He looks very handsome" she said with a nod, "I take it you dressed him?"

"Mmm hmm" Marie nodded, a gentle giggle bubbling in her chest,

"It looks- it looks a little familiar?" Duchess then suggested, tilting her head, as if seeking out a new angle,

Her daughter beamed proudly, squeezing her arm a little more tightly, " _Father_ " she whispered simply.

The breath caught in her throat for a moment as she observed her son, her gaze latching to the warm coloured, suede waistcoat, "Of course" she nodded, fond memories of the garment coming to mind, "It's perfect" she then added, before pressing a soft kiss into her daughter's hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Duchess put down her knitting decisively, her mind now too distracted by her contemplations to concentrate on the repetitive motion her fingers couldn't quite commit to. She looked over to Thomas who was scribbling notes in a journal he had laid out beside the book that he was reading,

"The exhibition wasn't the right time" she said firmly, still trying to convince herself rather than him,

"Hmm?" he replied, looking up from his work, "Oh well- of course it wasn't, it was Toulouse's evening, we couldn't make it about us, or the baby",

She smiled softly, she was starting to get very excited by the prospect of having a baby in the house again and every time her husband mentioned it, she felt a glow of joy. Her expression soon waned however as the initial matter came back into the forefront of her mind, "But we need to tell them soon, we've probably waited too long already"

Thomas sighed and stood to join her on the couch, "I suppose, but they are adults you know, they have their own lives too",

"Meaning?"

He sat and sank into the cushions heavily, "They probably have other things to worry about?" he suggested, wincing.

"That's not the point Tom" she replied, shaking her head, "We need to tell them, so they don't think we're hiding it from them"

He frowned and nodded begrudgingly, "Yeah- yeah, you're right" he licked his lips nervously, his hands now wringing together in front of him, "We'll tell them, we will"

Duchess lifted her head and looked at him, although she was not wearing the expression that he expected. Her look was still full of concern, her teeth pulling at her lip,

"What is it?"

"There's someone else we need to tell as well" she said, staring at him,

Thomas frowned, "Who?"

"My father"

The colour swiftly drained from the man's face and he lifted a hand to his mouth so that he could bite at his nails,

"Did you hear me Tom? We need to tell my father about the baby" Duchess repeated, trying to catch his eye.

"Yeah- yes of course" he replied, nodding vigorously, probably too vigorously, "We'll write him soon"

His wife then caught his hand, forcing him to look back at her,

Thomas swallowed and rose his brow at her,

"I think we should tell him face to face, it would be- _better_ that way"

The redhead let out a long, shaky breath, "I guess we should start planning a family trip to Austria then"

0o0o0

Steam rolled down the platform like a long, drifting cloud, dispersed only by the bodies that moved through it- the dozens of passengers and well-wishers, carrying luggage through the mist.

Thomas, Duchess and the triplets had arrived at the train station early, collecting their tickets and finding their private compartments quickly to get out of the cold. Duchess had gone to rest immediately, inexplicably exhausted by the short journey, while Thomas was keeping her company, practically glued to her side. The children had instead gone to a public carriage; they had made themselves comfortable on the well-padded seats mounted either side of a compartment space, and now sat waiting patiently, anxious to get going.

"They're acting a little strangely don't you think?" Marie asked, leaning forward in her seat and speaking in a conspiratal tone, despite them being alone in the closed off room,

Toulouse shrugged, before placing another piece of toffee in his mouth,

She sighed softly, "Berlioz, what do you think?" she said, turning to her other brother,

"I don't know? Maybe?" he replied, tired and clearly quite hungover. One of his hands was resting over his brow, covering his eyes from the sparse light, while the other rested on his unsettled stomach.

The train then shuddered to life suddenly and pulled away from the station, making all three of them jump in their seats,

Berlioz made an unpleasant sort of noise from deep in his throat, but soon settled once more.

Marie slumped back with a huff as the steady rhythm of the moving locomotive quietened down once it hit a constant speed, "Well, a lot of use the two of you are! I honestly think something is going on and-"

The door then slid open and thudded on the end of its runner, cutting Marie off. Two young men stood in the doorway, both dressed in smart, moss coloured uniforms, with matching bags slung over their shoulders. The closest one smiled warmly at Marie who was now watching him, her lips parted,

"Hey, didn't mean to intrude but everywhere else is full up" he said softly, his rich American accent strong as he spoke, "Do you mind if we sit with you?" he asked,

Marie exhaled and beamed back at him, "Not at all, please" she said, gesturing at the space across from her.

"Thanks" he nodded, stepping aside to let his companion in first,

 _He_ looked particularly tired. The man slipped into the space easily and sat heavily next to Marie on the large open seat- with his drooping eyelids he looked quite at home slumped across from Berlioz.

The first soldier then entered as well, sitting opposite Marie as she had suggested,

"What's your name?" she asked, once he had gotten comfortable and regarded her once more with his large smile,

"John- well I prefer Johnny really" he added with a shrug, "And you?"

"Marie" she replied, feeling a flush as it began to settle over her cheeks, "Oh, and these are my brother's, Berlioz and Toulouse" she then added, finally shifting her eyes away from the soldier's handsome face.

Johnny turned and nodded to each of them in turn, before biting his lip and laughing, "Where are you headed to Marie?"

"Austria"

"That's where we're going too" he nodded, "Oh, this is Douglas by the way"

The other soldier barely lifted his head, but at the very least made a tiny noise of recognition,

"Yeah-" Johnny said, trailing off, "-he had a long evening", he was wincing,

Marie mimicked his expression, looking to her equally drained brother, "Yes, some of us did too"

What followed was an awkward silence as the inference of the two young men's vices filled the compartment.

"So where are the three of you from?" the soldier eventually asked, coughing, "I detect an accent, but I got to say, your English is perfect",

"We're English- mostly. But we've lived in France all our lives" she replied, her smile finding her lips once more.

"So if you grew up in France, you must speak French, right? Like, fluently?"

Marie laughed softly, nodding "Oui, et comment est vetre Français?"

Johnny winced in response, "Err- Mon Français est- rusty?", his pronunciation left much to be desired, and his accent was next to non-existent,

The blonde giggled at him, but appreciated the effort, "Rouillé" she said, correcting him,

"Rouillé" he repeated, trying to match her exactly,

It was close enough.

The solider laughed then too, "Yeah, I was never very good at French"

"I think you did fine, it just takes practise", the blush across the young woman's cheeks was rising,

At that moment Toulouse coughed awkwardly and both Marie and Johnny noticed how far forward they were leaning in their seats- they both sat back and averted their gazes from one another,

"If you're British and living in France… why are you going to Austria?"

"We're visiting our grandfather" she answered, glad that he wasn't put off from talking to her, "He's a general, or he was, he's a little old for it now as you can imagine"

Johnny nodded, signalling for her to say more,

"My mother thought we should all take a trip to see him"

"So you're travelling with your parents then?" the soldier asked,

Marie's cheeks flared hotter for a second and she shrugged dismissively, "Yes, but they're travelling in a different carriage at the moment", the young woman was embarrassed by the idea that she was nineteen and still travelling with her entire family, but she supposed that it was still standard practise her someone like her, _unmarried_. She then shook her head and continued, "Where in America are you from?"

He perked up, "Oh- Denver, in Colorado-" his bright expression then faltered, "-if you know where that is?"

"In a sense" she replied, matching his uncertain expression, "Our stepfather is from Linton Indiana, I've never been to America, but he's told us about parts of it"

Johnny rose an eyebrow, but his smile found its way back to his lips, making Marie beam back at him, "Really? Your stepfather, huh? Is he travelling with you as well?"

"Yes, he's-"

Berlioz suddenly let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, cutting his sister off midsentence,

Marie turned and raised an eyebrow at him, expecting her brother to at least have something to say after so blatantly interrupting her.

The ravenet smacked his lips tiredly and shifted in his seat, making the leather creak. He rolled his shoulders and let out a groan- by the time he was done, everyone in the carriage was looking at him, "I'm going to find the dining car, anyone care to join me?"

"I will" Douglas said quickly, practically standing from his seat as he replied.

John and Marie rolled their eyes, almost in unison and slid back in their seats, making space for the two men to slip through,

The soldier stepped unsteadily between the obstacle course of legs, making it to the door first, while Berlioz took his time, shooting a warning look at his sister as he went. He even paused in the doorway to stare at her with a look on his face that said something along the lines of 'behave'.

"Well off you go" the blonde snapped, glaring back at him,

Furrowing his brow, he stepped out into the corridor and tugged on the sliding door, letting it fly on its rails and slam shut.

Inside the carriage Toulouse winced and sank back into his seat, shuffling away to gain a little more space between him and his sister,

Marie scowled at the closed door for a little longer before finally letting out a weighty but silent breath, her aggravation deflating, "Sorry about that-" she began, turning back towards John, with a blush now flaring across her face, "Siblings" she concluded, offering a shrug in explanation.

The soldier chuckled and waved it off, "Don't worry, I've got three younger brothers at home"

0o0o0

Coming and going at all hours of the day and night as he did, Berlioz was fairly used to walking in on intimate moments between his mother and stepfather, therefore he wasn't too embarrassed to find Duchess with her bare feet up on Tom's lap as he entered their carriage, having not bothered to knock first.

Thomas' cheeks began to glow red and his hands halted in their massage of the woman's dainty, pale feet,

"Hello darling, is everything alright?" the blonde asked,

Her son leant heavily against the door frame and folded his arms, "Yes, everything's fine, except for Marie's less than subtle flirting of course"

"Flirting?" his stepfather asked, quirking a brow,

"A couple of soldiers joined us in the carriage, seems she's taken an interest in one of them"

Duchess dismissed the comment with a shake of her head and sighed, "Marie is a sensible girl, she knows what she's doing, leave her be"

Thomas looked less than convinced however, "Be that as it may, you didn't leave your sister alone with him, did you?", he hoped that his tone didn't give away too much of his worry, although he was sure his face did- he was just glad that his wife still had her eyes closed from the foot massage.

"No, Toulouse is with her. I'm just heading to the dining cart, do the two of you need anything?" Berlioz replied,

His mother's eyes opened wide and she lulled her head to look over at him, "Oh yes, a hot chocolate and a plate of fried sardines with vinegar!"

The ravenet raised an eyebrow at her, "Hot chocolate _and_ sardines with vinegar?",

She blinked at him, "O-oh, yes, a hot chocolate for me, and sardines for Tom"

"Yeah, we were just talking about it actually" the man said quickly, nodding,

"Okay then" their son replied, slowly closing the door again.

A beat passed as they listened to the train drown out his receding footsteps, and Thomas once more regarded his wife:

"So, hot chocolate and sardines with vinegar?" he asked, almost smirking,

She nodded, sighing, "It's all I've been able to think about since boarding the train, it's the baby", she concluded by placing a hand over her swelling stomach which was currently drowned by a coat of many layers to help obscure her growth.

"Did you get many cravings when you were pregnant with the triplets?"

"Oh they were terrible for it! Think of it, three different children, each with their own tastes, each craving a different combination. I ate some very, _very_ odd things during that nine months"

He smiled at her and went back to pressing his thumbs into the soles of her feet, "Well I'm excited to see what this baby does"

0o0o0

The rest of the journey was uneventful. The train passed through the drowning silence of the snowy mountains, whispering on its tracks and spewing great plumes of steam which camouflaged it in the cold.

Toulouse easily fell asleep while his sister and the soldier enthralled one another with their life stories. Berlioz and his new companion enjoyed he trip too, although most of it was lost in a blur of intoxication.

By the time they made it to Austria it was the morning of the next day; Marie had barely noticed that she and Johnny had been talking for so long. As they stood on the crowded platform, talking quietly as her family collected together, they laughed at their shared exhaustion.

"I can't believe we're in Austria already" the blonde said, pulling her thin coat tighter around herself,

He chuckled in response and lugged his kit bag over one shoulder, "Time flies when you're having fun, the journey only _seems_ short"

Marie rose a brow, "So I'm a good conversationalist?" she asked, joining her hands behind her back and leaning in,

"Definitely" he agreed, "And very sweet" he added, inching closer still.

The young woman blushed and lifted a hand to cover her mouth, hiding her nervous smile,

Johnny looked over his shoulder briefly, checking that no one -particularly the girl's family- was looking, "I'd like to see you again some time" he said softly, moving in to press a kiss to her cheek.

She froze at the contact, her expression turning to blank shock as her entire face flared red, "Yes, I'd like to-"

He slipped a small folded piece of paper from his hand to her own, "I've got to go, but you'll write me?"

Marie looked down to the note nestled in her palm, the coarse paper the same colour as her cream coloured, lace gloves, "Yes, I will"

The soldier smiled again, taking up her hand once more, and brushing her covered knuckles against his lips, "Perfect" he said with a nod.

She released a shaky breath, her joy finally upturning her mouth, "Goodbye"

"Bye" he said with a nod, turning slowly away from her and lingering as long as he dared before he dashed down the platform, joining the other soldiers that had gathered around.

The blonde watched him for what seemed like a lifetime, making sure that she had his face memorised perfectly- the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled, the creases by his eyes, the freckles across his cheeks and-

"Marie!" Thomas called, his arm linked with her mother's,

"I'm coming!" she replied, dropping Johnny's note into her tight mesh bag as she turned towards him. She rushed over to her family, moving under the scrutinising gaze of Berlioz and the concerned expression of Toulouse. "Shall we go?" she asked, ignoring her brothers and taking Duchess' other arm into the loop of her own.


End file.
